Invisible Secret
by Ryla Dante
Summary: In Santa Carla, California, Sam and Dean Winchester visit a strange wax museum with an even stranger past. Don't get too close to the velvet ropes...Based on the movie Waxworks. Longer synopsis inside...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story idea had been in my head for a great while. I had always loved the movie that inspired this and a week ago I believe it was, a great friend of mine, catbeist, encouraged me to go with this idea. We began to brainstorm, to plot, to outline and this is the end result...I love ya Kat!!...You are the light at the end of my Plot Bunny tunnel. I never would have gotten anywhere with this mess without you, and you know that. Thanx a million!!

For those of you who have never seen 'Waxwork', the movie this is based on, that is okay...I did enough of an explanation to cover any loose ends. One little minor SPN final episode spoiler, but I think we are all past that now...(if not, sorry for the assumption)

**Synopsis:** In Santa Carla, California (yes that Santa Carla...for those of us that pay attention to our movie trivia...) A Wax Museum has popped up out of nowhere. Dean knows nothing of this, or its history, and drags Sam there on vacation. Once inside, Sam is the first to notice how odd the place is. No one else is around, and the men that work there are odd to say the least. The owner is even stranger. (if you have seen the film, I have added to his character. It is also twenty years since the end of the original film...) Things begin to go haywire, and Sam and Dean are thrust into a waking nightmare that does not seem to ever end.

Disclaimer: The movie belongs to Anthony Hickox. (I liked the movies, so I will say great work dude!!) Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. (also great work man!!)

* * *

Dean looked down at a small flier that read 'Welcome to the Waxworks' and grinned. The small town of Santa Carla, California had seen its share of daemons and hellfire. Now there was a strange wax museum that seemed to have manifested itself overnight. Of course none of this seemed to bother Dean in the slightest. He seemed to be unaware of the fact that this place was just as off as everything else they ever dealt with. 

"Dean what the hell are we doing here? I thought we were gonna take a few days off?"

Sam stared up at the large stone castle. It seemed to stand out, not just because it was the largest and oldest building on the block, but because there was a presence about it Sam could not put his finger on. He did not like it.

"Sam...this is time off!" Dean folded the paper up and stuck in his back pocket. Ever since he had seen Madame Tussaud's on Ripley's Believe It or Not as a child, he had wanted to visit a place like this. According to the flier, all the horror greats had been immortalized in wax and put on display, for free. There was no way Dean was going to pass that up.

"No Dean... this is what we hunt, only in wax" Sam argued. Sure he could use the vacation, there was no denying it. Yet a creepy house of wax with horror figures from every era turned his stomach. It was one thing to fight them, but to see them staring back at him unmoving, was oddly unnerving.

"Pffft...No it's not. This is... " Dean looked up and around the entrance of the ginormous building. "This is _awesome_!" He touched the stone and a slight charge, almost like static electricity, leapt from the building. Dean pulled back a bit, but merely shook it off.

"Besides, you drug me to the Met and that freaking arch in St. Louis. It's my turn!!" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but his brother had yanked on the bell pull before a word could slip past. The door creaked open, yet neither of them saw anything that could have opened it.

"Um, maybe it's electronic. Could explain the shock I got a second ago." Dean shrugged. Sam only stared into the foyer, not sure if it was safe to enter. His feelings were increasing by the second. As they entered the spacious front hall, the door slammed behind them, causing both to jump. Dean chuckled, while Sam only shook his head. Yet another reason for his suspicions to be proven right. To their left was a smaller room with a sign in the doorway. It pointed them in the right direction, so Dean led the way, and Sam reluctantly followed.

In the anteroom sat a large white couch, and a glass coffee table. Sitting on the latter was a bottle of whisky and two glasses. Dean looked at this for a second, wondering how they knew of their coming, but took the invitation anyways. A large oak door was directly across from them. Dean downed his glass, handing the other to Sam. He ignored his brother, surveying their sparse surroundings. A bookshelf was inset into one wall and was filled with strange books. Many of the titles were in foreign languages even a brainiac like Sam could not translate. As he reached for one that looked like it might be interesting, a sound made him turn around. The oak door had opened on it's own just as the front door had.

"So, now the festivities begin." Dean downed the second glass of whisky then set it down on the table. Sam glared at him, but said nothing. Both boys stepped in and just on the other side of the door was a three foot tall butler and his giant companion.

"Greetings my friends, I am Hans." The butler announced.

The place looked almost dead though a creepy feeling suddenly escaped Dean. Then when he noticed the small butler, a smile crossed his lips.

"Hey kid," Dean knelt down in front of Hans. He looked at Dean with an eyebrow raised.

"Dontcha think it's a bit past your bedtime? Huh?" Dean started to laugh when the larger man, taller than his own brother, stepped in front of Hans and uttered a low growl. Dean stood, then backed up.

"Okay, easy there Tiny, just having a little fun at Tom Thumb's expense." The man bared his teeth but stopped when an older man stepped from the shadows. Sam watched as he moved next to the taller man with ease, patting him on the head like a dog.

"Calm now Junior. This boy does not know his place. Maybe his manners need readjusting." A thick English accent cut through the emptiness of the enormous room. Dean pulled back, officially freaked out. The Englishman said something to the others and they both nodded. Junior lumbered off, whilst Hans spun around, his hair swishing noisily behind him, his heels clacking together.

The man, his name was David Lincoln, waved an arm motioning for the boys to continue into the large gallery. There were hundreds of scenes from many a horror film, story, and some that looked as if they had been dreamt up on the spot. Sam stared at one of the latter. It was a half man, half snake, and he was instantly repulsed. Dean nudged him, a grin back on his face.

"Cool huh? Talk about lifelike man. I swear that thing is gonna jump the rope and attack us." Dean touched the bright red rope and watched the creature's midnight eyes. He jumped when the curator slapped him on the back with a forceful gesture. Dean almost fell forward and thanked God for the barrier in front of him.

"Be careful there young man. Some things you know nothing about can be your worst enemy!" He smiled then moved off ahead of them. Dean's smile vanished. _What was it with the help around here? Straight out of a horror film themselves. _

Sam left his brother's side and edged his way past a scene of Marie Antoinette. The woman's face was painted just as it would have been in every picture Sammy had seen of her. Cherry red lips, a small mole on her cheek, and pasty white skin. Her large colourful dress was held up at the sides by two dainty hands. Atop her head was a large off-white bouffant hairdo. Sam thought it odd that a beautiful woman such as she would be stuffed amongst all these monstrosities.

"Excuse me sir..." Sam pointed at the figure, never taking his eyes off her. Mr Lincoln turned, his hands linked behind his back.

"Please call me David." He moved toward Sam, almost floating. Sam shivered but tried to keep his cool. They were just here to look and then they would never see this bunch again. Or so he hoped.

"David, of all the other items you have on display here, why do you have Marie Antoinette?" Sam finally looked away from her. David lightly thumbed the velvet rope barring their ingress. He looked at the statue a while, then back at Sam.

"You see my boy. Sometimes every place needs a touch of beauty. Without it, the world would fall apart in our very hands." He smiled slowly then touched the figure on the cheek. Sam now wished he had stayed outside, letting his brother explore this place. Dean looked back at the two of them and suddenly noticed they were the only ones in the entire area.

"Why isn't there anyone else here?

Sam looked around. The place was completely dead. He had been so busy worrying about other things that he had never even noticed that little inconvenience. There wasn't a sound other than their own voices.

"No, no..." David looked around, acting suspiciously, though Sam was not sure if this was just extreme over-acting or not

"There _are_ others here...only they are spread around. One must experience on their own to get a real feel for the art." David waved his arms around, emphasizing his point. Sam now knew things were queer about this place, that this guy was one fry short a value meal. Save for their Impala and a hearse that had been parked alongside the building, no other patrons could possibly be inside, unless of course they had walked in.

"I think maybe my brother and I have seen just about enough. We really need to be going, so if you don't mind..." Sam stepped away from David then called for his brother, who was no longer next to him. Dean had somehow wandered off, leaving Sam all by himself. Once again.

"It seems as if your brother has other plans young sir. Please. Stay awhile until he reappears then by all means, go." David left the same way he came: Passing through shadows. Sam watched him leave, feeling an eery sense of dread. Now with his older brother gone, Sam was completely alone. He wanted to go home, yet now he had no choice but to stick around. Sighing, Sam walked past the other exhibits, merely glancing at them as he did.

-----

Dean had moved on to a different display, this time Jack the Ripper. The cape clad murderer towered over a defenseless prostitute. Her hands were up in a terrified pose. The back of her right hand was pressed against her mouth, whilst the other was out in front of her. Jack's right hand gripped that wrist and in his left hand held a knife. A devilish sneer was drawn on his vial face. The face itself was nondescript. It could be anyone and no one at the same time. Just as the legend suggested.

Dean read the placard beside the display. "Jack claims first victim. Mary Ann Nichols, August 31, 1888." Dean touched the raised lettering, then stared into the woman's horrified eyes.

They seemed so real, so tragic. It was almost as if Dean could truly feel her pain, her agony. His stare lingered a moment longer then he turned away. Slipping his flask from his jacket, he took a hearty swig. This place was better than anything he had seen in the movies and why Sammy had to be a wet rag was beyond him. Dean began to place the flask back in his pocket, when it slipped from his grasp, and bounced into the display.

"Yeah, of course, why not?" Dean threw his hands up and huffed. He got down on his knees, looking to make sure no one saw what he was doing, then reached for the silver object. His fingers just tapped it, but it was too far away for him to get it that way, so he had no choice but to cross the rope to get it. Dean knew he could get in serious trouble for this, but he needed that damned thing. It belonged to Pastor Jim and Dean knew that his _father_ would have had no qualms about trespassing where he wasn't supposed to. Taking one last look, Dean unhooked the rope, stepped into the display, disappearing in a flash of dim light, followed by a low zap.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wee, reviews!! I am also glad that someone other than me has seen this film!!! wink, wink Here is pulse pounding chapter two...one day at a time...meaning that is how I will post each chapter...hope you likey thus far!!!!

Disclaimer: Shout out to Anthony Hickox and Eric Kripke...Waxwork and Supernatural belong together like peanie butter and jelly, hehe...

* * *

Sam had walked throughout the entire gallery seeing enough wax figures to last a lifetime. Yet he had not been able to find his brother. Somehow Dean had slipped past him, and the man was never known for his stealth skills. A daemon could smell him at twenty paces and a woman could hear his idiocy at five. Sam shook his head, turned down one row, then stopped at a large scene that was standing all by itself against a back wall.

The infamous Dr. Jekyll stood over his metal work table, beakers and science books strewn haphazardly. The doctor's lab coat was covered in some kind of chemical. In the man's left hand he held a full test tube. Inside housed a yellow liquid that was unusually bright in the dimly lit room. His hair was scraggly and unkempt. It was as if he had not slept in days. Sam laughed in spite of himself. This was a wax sculpture, not a human being of which had any true feelings or emotions. Yet there was something otherworldy about all of this.

As Sam continued to stare at the amazing detail, for it was wonderful work, he felt a shove from behind. Unable to sturdy himself, he fell headfirst into the display. Toppling over the rope that had somehow come undone, he landed on his stomach. When he looked up, everything was different, wrong somehow. As he looked around, he saw that he was no longer in the museum.

Hans smiled, wiping his hands together. The job was done and master would be pleased. He swung around, once again marching out of the room. Entering the curator's office, he stood at attention, as if we in the army, waiting for further instructions. David sat with his back to the door, staring into a small mirror. When he heard the small man enter, he turned around.

"Well?" David crossed his hands in front of his face. Hans stepped forward, his smile wider than before.

"It is done sir. Numbers 17 and 18 are here and accounted for. Your collection is complete." Hans looked up at Junior who smiled down at him.

David rubbed his cheek slowly, purposefully. He closed his eyes half way and sighed heavily. Turning back to the mirror, he flicked on a small light that was attached to it. David thumbed his chin, then spoke.

"It better be my son. If memory serves me right, things did not go too well for us the last time, did it not?" Hans swallowed hard. Junior had yanked him out of that damn Venus fly trap, thankfully before he became fully digested. He still had nightmares.

"Yes sir, I do. But this time will be different. There is no connection with these two, no way for them to know of our intentions."

David smiled then tilted his head. In the light, his face could be fully seen. His left cheek was peeled back, and bone was shining through. David picked up a spoon, waving it over a candle on his desk. As it heated to the perfect temperature, he placed it to his face, heating the wax that now covered every part of his body.

That night 20 years ago had taken something from him, but he had used his 'death' as a way to become that which he held so dear. Falling into that vat of wax had been a curse and at the same time a blessing. Now as long as he maintained his face, no one would ever be the wiser. He in fact was older, much older than even his outside appearances would suggest. He had the face of a man in his late 50's, yet he was 5 times than that, if not more. Young Mark Loftmore had tried to kill him then, fouled his plans, but now he would get what he needed, no matter the cost.

-----

"Excuse me sir, but unless you have a broom and dust pan, I kindly suggest you remove yourself from my floor!" Dr. Henry Jekyll stood over Sam as he lay on the cement floor. He looked perturbed, not welcoming the fact that there was a strange man in his laboratory.

Sam stood, wiping his hands on his...pants? His clothes were not his own. His jeans and t-shirt was gone, replaced with cotton pants held up with suspenders. Under this was a white silk blouse. His hair was slicked back with some sort of grease. Sam felt so out of place.

"Did my Emma send you? She knows that I need complete privacy when I work, that...never mind that. Now enough with the dour expression and get over here and help me." Sam snapped to attention, not sure why, and rushed to the man's aide. Henry handed Sam a small vial, telling him to be very careful not to drop it, no matter what. Sam nodded furiously, holding it tightly in his hands. Henry turned from Sam then read something in his journals.

"Now, just a little more of this and the transformation will be complete. Ah, now. Hand me that tube there my good fellow, won't you?" Henry motioned to his left, never taking his eyes from his book. Sam picked up a large test tube filled with red liquid. He handed it to the doctor, who yanked it from his hands. Henry mumbled something then slammed the book shut. Spinning round, he almost banged into Sam.

"Away young fellow, you are going to get in the way otherwise." Then he looked Sam up and down, really noticing him for the first time.

"My word, you are a rather large specimen, aren't you?" Then he skirted around the younger man. Holding the tube in his hand, he poured it into the other that he had originally been holding. He motioned furiously at Sam to hand him the vial. A green liquid shimmered inside. Henry popped the stopper then poured the now orange liquid with the green. The mixture hissed, bubbled, then silence. Henry grinned evilly then downed the new concoction.

Sam watched as Henry rushed to his journal, throwing it open. He scratched every minute down in it, every detail of what was happening. Sam began to wonder if anything _was_ going to occur, when the doctor started to breath funny, to turn red, and undo his tie. He tossed off his coat, throwing it onto a small chair by the table. Sam backed away as Henry slammed his fists on the table, groaning slightly. Then a growl erupted from him, causing Sam to throw a hand to his face. Suddenly maniacal laughter sprang forth from the doctor. Then he hunched over, all noise ceased.

Sam leaned in, not knowing what to expect next. As he stepped forward, a hand on the doctor's shoulder, Henry spun around. The once handsome face of the good doctor was gone. He was now menacing and vial. His teeth were as sharp as a dog's and his eyes were red like rubies. He sprang at Sam, laughing. Sam rolled out from under him, ending under the table.

"Come back my son. I only want to play with you." As he reached under the table for Sam, he smiled.

"Then pick your bones clean with my teeth!" Henry, now Edward Hyde, threw his head back and laughed. Sam closed his eyes.

"No, no." Sam said aloud. "This isn't real. It can't be. I'm dreaming, I'm in bed, having a crazy nightmare, and none of this is real."

When Sam opened his eyes, Hyde grabbed him by the throat, his smile even wider than ever. Sam banged on the man's arm, feeling flesh and bone. He wasn't imaging this, wasn't dreaming. Sam continued to fight against his impending doom, screaming for his brother, wherever he was.

-----

Dean scanned his surroundings unsure of just where he was. The floor below him was no longer covered in cheap red nylon carpet. He was now standing on a cobblestone street, but where? As he knelt down to examine it, a whinny stirred his concentration. Looking up, Dean saw a hansom cab and the driver looked at him ominously.

"I suggest you move young man. Blocking traffic could shorten your years by a tremendous lot." Dean jumped out of the cab's path. The man whipped at the young Shire. It snorted then galloped off down the long narrow road. Dean glanced after it then back to his current position when he saw an older woman who looked to be maybe five years or so older than himself. She was leaning against a large brick building, a bottle in her hand. She tossed it back then gasped as the liquor burned.

The woman moved from the darkness and Dean recognized her right away. It was Mary Nichols. The first victim of Jack the Ripper. Damned if he wasn't here in Whitechapel. As Mary threw the empty bottle into a trash bin, a dark figure exited from the alley Mary had been standing in. Dean started to move forward when Mary swung around.

"Well, ifen you ain't me Johnny on the spot." The woman said with a strong cockney accent. Mary curtsied and almost fell over. The man gripped her wrist, helping her up. Mary giggled, thanking him kindly. Yet when he did not let go, she called him a foul word then spat at him.

"Let me go ya ingrate. Ifen you don't pay fer it, you can't grab it. Savvy?" Jack held her wrist firm, not letting go. Now Mary was scared. She yanked her wrist back again. Jack grabbed her face, gripping it so hard it left a bruise on her left cheek. Mary tried to scream, when Jack sliced her neck. Mary fell to the ground. Jack placed his hand ever so gently behind her head. Blood trickled from the wound, so to make sure none ended up on him or the victim, Jack set a thick layer of butcher's paper under her.

Then he cut at her neck once again, slower this time, severing all major vessels. Mary gagged, then all functions ceased. Jack continued his ritualistic and sadistic killing, cutting into her abdomen several times. By this time Dean had already thrown up twice. He had read many books, seen all the movies, but never had he thought he would experience the Whitechapel Murders firsthand. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Once Jack was finished, he cleaned his knife on the already filthy papers, then tossed them in the nearby trash bin. Since the butcher shop was just down the street no one would be the wiser. He stood then began to walk away, when he was knocked to the ground. Dean had gotten his courage back and decided to take charge of the situation.

"What are you doing damn you? Get off me!" Jack swung around, knocking Dean to the ground. Dean landed on his back, but did not back down that easily. He flung himself at the man, the both of them crashing into an abandoned grocery. Jack grunted, saying something in Polish, then kicked Dean in the stomach. Dean landed hard on a lone wooden pallet, smashing it under him.

"How did you see me? How did you find me?" Jack yelled, waving the knife around, precariously close to Dean's face. Dean scooted backwards trying to avoid becoming a human shish kabob.

"Wait just one second. I never meant to get in your way. I just..." Dean began, but Jack had ulterior motives. He jabbed the knife in Dean's direction, stabbing him in the shoulder. Dean groaned, then suddenly a realization hit him. If this was all a display, then he was just perceiving it as reality.

"Okay Jacky boy." To test his theory, Dean jumped up, coaxing Jack to come at him.

"You might be able to kill poor defenseless women, but how about trying to grow some balls and come after someone you can really take on."

Jack's eyes grew ten times their size and he lunged at Dean, the knife at the ready. Dean closed his eyes, praying it would work. Jack sailed right through him, landing on the floor behind him. Dean opened one eye, then the other. When he did not see Jack, a smirk flashed on his lips.

"You little shite!" Dean heard the words and jumped. He ran from the store, hauling ass as he did so. Slipping and almost falling on the broken storefront, Dean skirted around the alleyway. He still did not believe any of this, but knew he had to get out of there fast.

Dean stopped at the same spot where he found himself twenty minutes ago. He slowly reached his hand out, not knowing what he was going to feel. Yet when his hand disappeared into nothingness, he knew he had won this round. Just as Jack emerged from the store, Dean slipped from the terror and back into normalcy. Landing hard on the tacky red carpeting, he looked back at the display and saw that it was back to normal, except now that Jack's head was turned in his direction, a menacing look on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter three...enjoy!!

Disclaimer: Hickox and Kripke own everything but the story...that belongs to catbiest and I...hehe!!

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"Why is nothing happening?" David stood beside the Marie Antoinette. He looked around the building. There were no flashes, no great blue lightening that was supposed to follow the death of number 18. David glared at his subjects, wishing he had done this himself 20 years ago. He clasped his hands tightly and pressed them to his face. Anger seethed from his unaged face. 

"Hans," David said between gritted teeth. "I hope you are happy with your position here, because it can be permanently erased! " He turned fast, leaving Hans with a terrified look upon his face. Dean leapt back into the shadows as David passed by. Dean stayed that way for a moment, then leaned forward, watching the other two men.

"He's in here. The tall one." Hans muttered in a sullen tone. Junior ran a hand through his raven hair, not really paying any attention to anything in particular. Hans pointed at the Jekyll and Hyde display, pushing at the large man. Junior grunted, slapping at the tinier man.

"Fine then. You look for the other one while I get the bigger one. Does that work for you?" Junior nodded, then tromped off to where they had seen Dean last. Dean took the opportunity to take out Junior. It would probably be his only chance.

Jumping from his hiding spot, Dean lunged at the larger man, surprising him. He knocked him to the ground, then leapt over him. Hans saw Dean coming and squealed. Dean knocked him across the room, banging him into the Marie Antoinette display. He rolled to his side, beginning to get up, but Dean was faster. He leapt into the Jekyll and Hyde display and almost landed on Hyde himself.

"De..." Sam gasped. Hyde's hand was still attached to his throat. Hyde was shocked by the sudden intrusion and let Sammy go. Dean chuckled uneasily as the monster before him growled long and loud.

"Um, hey dude. What's up?" He half waved. Sam looked at him in shock and awe.

"Dean," He coughed. "This is neither the time nor the place for pleasantries."

Dean looked down at Sam then grabbed his hand, helping him up. Hyde swiped at them, knocked them both onto the floor. Dean moaned, slapping his hand on the floor. Standing, he took a deep breath and stood directly in front of Edward. The monster eyed him hungrily.

"Listen chief... I am sick and tired of ending up on my ass. Now I only came here for my brother, not to get harassed by Captain Fugly." Dean tapped the 'man' on the chest as he said the last two words. Sam stared at him, wondering if his brother had finally gone mad.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing? That thing is going to tear you apart." Sam pressed himself again the table, so sure his brother was going to lose an arm. Dean shook his head.

"Listen Sammy. Just cause they control the horizontal and the vertical does not mean the picture ain't crystal clear, okay..." Dean had his back to Edward Hyde, his arms crossed in front of him. Sam watched as Hyde raised his hands, ready to attack his brother. Sam jumped up, pushing Dean out of the way. At that moment, Hyde's fists landed hard on Sam's chest, knocking him to the ground. Dean jumped at Hyde, slamming him into the far wall, knocking him out of commission for a short while.

"Sam, come on." Dean shook his brother. Sam's eyes blinked wildly. He caught glimpses of the lab but not much else. Dean slapped his brother hard, rousing him. Sam shoved his brother in gut reaction. Dean only smiled.

"Now that Sammy my man, is real, but nothing else is. Do you understand me yet?" Sam looked at the collapsed man behind his brother, then back up at Dean. He was not sure what to believe.

"I can't. It had its hands on my throat. It tried to kill me Dean. There is no way that can't be real. Just like everything else that has tried to kill us, I..."

"Kid, don't make me hit you again!" Dean titled his head, his eyebrows cocked. Sam shook his head, but said nothing.

"Now Sam, be rational for me, okay. We were sucked into wax art displays, right? A thing that could not in a million years come to life." Dean paused a moment. "Except for maybe on the Twilight Zone and that guy ain't no Rod Serling. Okay??" This time Sam nodded, the idea beginning to sink in. They both stood, moving to where they hoped the portal would be. As they touched the wall, Hyde groaned. Sam swallowed hard but Dean gripped his arm.

"What isn't real can't hurt us. Not here, not ever!" Dean whispered softly. Sam slowly nodded and as he tapped the wall his hand slipped through. He reached for his brother and they both fell out onto the gallery floor, falling at David Lincoln's feet.

"So glad that you boys could drop in." David towered over Sam and Dean. Dean pushed his brother behind him, the protector in him kicking in. He scowled at the older man. David ignored the look and knelt down in front of Dean. He grabbed him by the throat and lifted him with a strength that was more suitable for a man half his age.

"Too bad your trip here will be such a short one!" In a flash, he thrust Dean into the scene next to theirs. Sam watched in horror as his brother vanished before his very eyes. He jumped up and began to say something, when Junior came out of nowhere, gripping him tightly.

"Don't worry my boy." David touched Sam's face with a thin finger. "You will see your brother very soon."

Then before he could protest, Junior tossed Sam in after his brother.

"Hans," The smaller man rushed to David's side. He bowed quickly, then stood at attention.

"Do not leave your post, no matter what happens. They must not escape, or else!" David over-emphasized the last word. Hans nodded slowly then ran to the exhibit. Junior stood at his left.

David sighed. Staring at the two men at his left, he knew that this would be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, chapter four is here...only one more to go...I hope you all are enjoying this...Once I post the last one, catbeist and I will be going back into the snake pit as it were, and work on another story, a little something off the beaten path...The boys are gonna hate us for life after all the crap we yank them through I swear...LOL

Disclaimer: Anthony Hickox dealt with some of these crazy characters 20 years ago, now Eric Kripke gets to deal with these other nutty ones 20 years later...ain't it loverly??? Of course somewhere between those 20 years two girls one named Sonja and another named Katrine wanted to become writers and look at what we have done...our warped psyches have warped what was already a bit bent...hehe...Ah, oh well, it was bound to happen sooner or later!!

* * *

Sam fell hard on his brother, making him grunt. Sam pushed off, rolling onto the floor. Dean sat up, shaking his head. Yet again they were stuck in another crazy anomaly. Their surroundings were similar to that of all the rest. 19th century Victorian, European architecture, and classic fixtures you only saw in paintings or in a museum. 

Sam could tell that by the home they were in that the owner must be wealthy. Six stone columns grew from the floor to the vaulted ceilings, a height of at least 20 feet. The room itself, mainly painted in white and red's, was roughly 50' by 75'. In the middle of the spacious room was a glorious mahogany dining table with seating for twenty. Seven people were already having a small meal there. One man was sucking down the meat on his plate as if it were his last meal. Dean looked closer and saw that what he was eating wasn't just any meat, but human.

"Sam, let's go before the Donner party over there get a whiff of us." Dean yanked at Sam's arm and he nodded. They backed up, spun around, then tested the walls. A moment later, Dean realized his brother was no longer beside him. Turning slowly, Dean saw that a young woman who had been sitting at the table was holding his brother in a trance. Dean cursed under his breath then stepped beside him.

"Sam, Sammy." Dean snapped his fingers in his brother's face, but got no reaction. He was gone. He continued calling Sam's name, when the vampire hissed at him.

"Back off psycho bitch. I gave at the office!" Dean snarked. The woman hissed louder then waved at three men who somehow magically appeared behind him. The next thing Dean saw was a fist flying at his face, then darkness.

Dean awoke, dizzy and lightheaded. That guy had hit him harder than he thought. He rubbed at his face and felt a sting as his hand connected with a fresh bruise. Somehow he had forgotten to follow his own advice and let that goon sock him one. As Dean looked down at himself, he noticed that he was in a king size bed, a large feather comforter pulled up to his chest. Tossing it off his body, he saw that he had been stripped of the clothes he had come into this dreamworld with.

"Jesus Christ, here we go again." Dean rolled his eyes then leapt from the bed. Laid across the back of a wooden chair was a suit. Dean groaned, but since there was no other alternative, he hurriedly stuffed himself inside. He yanked at the too high collar, feeling way to damned uncomfortable. Looking at himself in the mirror, he grit his teeth then smashed the chair on the vanity. Now with a weapon at the ready he left the room.

-----

"This one is perfect for master." The female vampire slurred in broken English. Her Romanian accent flowed through the halls, landing in Deans ears, yet he shook the effects off. He stood outside the large oak door listening to every word, or at least the ones in English.

"Do you think so. Last time was such a travesty. He never recovered." Another voice, this time male. His words were much more articulate. Dean continued listening as the vampires rattled off in Romanian. He held the makeshift stake to his chest, knowing this was all fake, but he knew it was the only way to get Sammy back in one piece.

"If we get out of here, I swear I am kicking that boy's ass." Dean muttered to himself then kicked the door open. The vampires flung around, hissing in unison. Dean was not impressed. The male lunged at Dean and was instantly impaled on the chair leg. He screeched, grabbing at the wood. Blood shot out of mouth, splattering Dean's new attire, then he fell limp. Dean shook him off then concentrated on the female.

"Hey she-bitch!" She glared at him, licking at her teeth, as a guttural sound emanated from inside her. Dean smiled, thinking this would be as easy as the man had been.

"That's private property you're drooling on over there, so I'd appreciate it if you'd...oh shit!" The female flew across the room, grabbing Dean around the throat. Dean fell backwards, landing hard on the floor. The wind was knocked out of him. The stake fell from his hands and skirted across the floor. She let him go, only to hold his arms downs. As she did, once again she hissed in his face.

"You know you may not be real, but your breath could kick a rhino's ass." The vampire slapped Dean hard across the face, giving Dean a free arm. He knocked her to the ground, pissing her off. Dean grabbed the stake just as she attacked him again. Yanking her wrist and spinning her around, he held the stake over her.

"I don't believe in you!" Then he thrust it deep into her heart. She screamed, falling limp in his arms. He tossed her aside just as the another door burst open. Count Dracula and two other men, one of whom had whacked Dean, loomed in the doorway.

"Oh great, the Kingston Trio is here. Time to went!" Dean ran to his brother, who had been strapped to a wall shirtless and unresponsive. He tapped his brother on the cheek, getting a slight moan from him. One more tap and he opened his eyes ever so slightly.

"Sam, ya still with us?"

"Yeah, just get me down from here." Sam stared at the shackles that held him in place, pulling hard. As Dean began to work on them, a violent growl erupted throughout the room. Dean heard something shouted in Romanian then felt himself being slammed against a wall. Sam yelled for his brother.

"You're not real!!!" Dean shoved the vampire off him. When he came after Dean again, it was the same results as before. He went right through him. Sam gasped then banged his hands on the device he was being held on. Dean rushed back to him, finally getting him down.

They rushed back to the dining room, Sam lagging behind. They reached the portal and stepped through. On the other side, Hans and Junior watched in astonishment as the boys slipped freely from the display. Sam and Dean breathed heavily, gripping onto each other tight. Hans gasped then ran at Sam. Sam spun around, picking him up.

"I've had just about enough of you." Sam lifted the small man over his head then tossed him into a far display. Hans screamed and then the sound was cut short as he vanished. Nothing happened for a few moments then the scene changed. Hans' feet were seen dangling from the mouth of the half-man, half-cobra. Dean groaned.

Junior made a sound like a child losing his favourite plaything then growled. He lunged at Sam. Dean jumped in between them, wrapping him in a bear hug. Junior struggled in Dean's grip, grunting and groaning.

"Listen you overgrown three year old," Dean looked up into the large being's eyes. "No one kicks my brother's ass but me!" Dean spun Junior around, and in one swift movement, shoved him into the Zombie exhibit. Seconds later the scene changed and his large frame had been ripped apart, pieces strewn everywhere.

"Well," The all too familiar voice broke through the almost complete silence. David walked through a small door and stopped in front of them. He clapped his hands then clasped them in front of him. He looked amused.

"I do say that was rather good work." He gestured toward the two scenes. "I couldn't have done any better myself."

David stepped to a dark display, one that was marred by shadows. His back was to Sam and Dean. He gripped the velvet rope tensely then sighed. Turning back to the boys there was a look on his face that registered an uneasy feeling within them. His eyes seemed dead and his skin looked so pale, almost like the wax figures themselves.

"I guess if you can't have something done right," David was on them before they could blink. He fastened a hold on their arms. They struggled against his grasp, but it was futile. David's face became even more sinister. Sam looked at his brother, who was staring into the villain's eyes.

"You just have to do it, yourself!" Then with a powerful force, he propelled them forward into the exhibit.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The Final Chapter...oooohhhh sounds so ominous, hehe. hope you all enjoyed this...off to brainstorm with Catbeist with this great idea we have...

Disclaimer: Hickox and Kripke own it all see, and ifen ya mess with anything they put their rights to, yer gonna disappear, like Jimmy Hoffa, or that sock I lost while doing laundry...anybody seen my one blue sock anywhere?? Huh??

* * *

Woods surrounded them, covering them in darkness. A thick silence enveloped them like a fog over a deep lake. Sam scanned the trees, spinning wildly. Everything looked exactly the same and there was no way of telling which way they had come in. They were officially screwed. Dean sat at his brother's feet, his knees gripped to his chest. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and deliberate. Sam knelt in front of him, touching his slender arms. Dean did not respond to him but merely stayed in that position. As Sam stood, trying to make heads or tails of their current location, Dean let out a long painful groan. 

"Sam, my chest hurts." Dean listed to the left, his knees free from their grasp. Dean's face was taught, screwed up in a painful expression. Sam dropped to his brother's side, a hand to the man's shoulder. Dean muttered something inaudible, then screamed in agony. He fell backwards digging his hands into the fresh earth. Mud and grass ripped out in clumps as Dean struggled with the fight inside his body.

"Dean," Sam was trying to keep his composure, trying to stay calm not only for Dean, but for himself.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Remember what you told me? What isn't real can't hurt you? Remember?" Sam's voice slipped a few octaves, cracking as he spoke. This was not being calm, nor comforting. Dean's breathing picked up, the pace harder.

"Sammy?" Dean lifted his head and looked square into his brother's frightened orbs.

"Are you in my body? No. So you can just kiss my ass!" Dean's eyes flashed, a look Sam had seen only once before and now Sam knew that he had to get Dean out of there before he turned into a creature of the night.

Sam grabbed for his brother, assuming he would protest. Yet Dean gave into his help and stood. Even though Dean was four inches shorter and the smaller of the two, he seemed to suddenly weight ten times as much. Sam struggled to keep his grip on his older brother as they trekked through the dense forest looking for some way out. Fifteen minutes later, a solitary light caught Sam's eye. It was coming from a small shack at the end of a dirt path. Sam shifted Dean, trying to keep him standing, then headed for the cabin.

Inside, Sam set his brother on a tiny wooden chair, shutting the door behind him. Dean's face was scarlet and he was sweating profusely. Dean had already undone his shirt and found it almost impossible to breath. To him it was like trying to breath underwater without a tank. Sam leaned against the door watching as his brother fell apart before his very eyes. Shaking off the sudden thoughts that invaded his mind, he rushed to his brother's side.

"Dean please." Sam placed a hand on the arm of the small chair. The wood was marred with some kind of scratches and...teeth marks? Sam yanked his hand back as if it had just touched an open flame then rubbed both of them together. Now was not the time for the past.

"Dean, you have to listen to me. Everything that you are feeling, no matter how painful, is not real. Please Dean. We need to be focused right now so we can get the hell out of here." Sam tried to reason with his brother. Dean breathed deeply, his eyes closed once more. He never answered Sam. This scared him, utterly terrified him.

As Sam stood there watching his brother, a loud bang broke from the outside of the cabin. A twig cracked then the front door slammed open. A young man rushed in, shutting it behind him. He leaned on it, making a barrier between whatever was outside and himself with his hands. He was panting and muttering something about hunters. His shirt was torn and he was bleeding from a serious neck wound. A minute passed, then a gun blast erupted through the night, shaking the cabin.

The door was shot off its hinges, knocking the man backwards. Another wound, this one now in his chest, emerged under his obliterated shirt. Sam stepped backwards, almost falling down, as the man skidded to a stop at his feet. As Sam stared at the dying man, a hunter entered the doorway. He held an Ithaca in his meaty hands. Smoke billowed out the end of it. The hunter popped the barrel, unloaded the empty cartridges, then dropped them on the wooden floor. Reloading, he snapped the barrel shut, then actually pointed the gun at Sam and his brother.

"Are you in cahoots with this mammal?" The hunter's low growl almost matched that of a dog on the hunt. In fact, to Sam, he almost looked like a bloodhound. Before Sam could speak up, Dean's eyes shot open and he began to pant, his tongue lapping at the cool air that had consumed the habitat. Sam watched in horror as his brother stood, picked up the chair, and in once swift movement, ripped it apart. The hunter cocked his shotgun and aimed it.

"NO!" Sam screamed, leaping in front of the barrel. The other man eyed him slowly and looked to have no reservations about killing Sam's brother right then and there. Sam turned back to his brother and socked him hard in the mouth. Dean fell to the floor not knowing what had hit him. A hand instinctively went to his now bleeding lip. He spit on the ground, his eyes now trained on his brother.

"You better start sleeping with a friend from now on." Dean grunted then stood. He now realized what was going on. He was finally himself. Dean caught sight of the hunter, the gun still locked on him as if he had just stepped out on a redneck wedding.

"Look big daddy," Dean raised a hand, licking at his fresh wound. Dean had donned a thick southern drawl, just to screw with the man.

"Mary Anne might be the purtiest girl in Beaver Falls, but 'tain't no excuse to go around blowing holes in folks. Puts dents in their personalities ya know?"

The hunter was by no means amused and pressed the gun into Dean's chest. It did not go through as he had assumed it would and that spooked the hell out of him. Reaching out to touch it, his hand landed on still warm metal. Dean chuckled uneasily. He flashed a look at his brother, who nodded. Dean ducked fast, just as the gun went off. Sam grabbed the shotgun, knocking it up in the air as he shot once again. Ripping it out of the man's hand, Sam swung it around and whacked the hunter in the head. He yelped then hit the floor. Sam hit him again, smashing his nose. He tossed the gun aside, then both of them rushed from the cabin.

They stopped after running for a few minutes. Dean leaned against a tree while Sam dropped to the ground, breathing hard. They kept staring down the path wondering why their own advice had failed them. As they stood there, a crash broke out behind them. Dean pushed away from the tree, yanking Sam off the ground. They stood there holding their breath. Nothing happened for quite a while, when a black figure emerged from behind a tree.

"So, you are still with us." The accent was all to familiar. Dean started forward, wanting to put David in his place, but Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him back. David grinned then perched upon a fallen pine tree. His newfound throne seemed more suited for a king, not the serf before them.

"I guess things need to be explained, need to be made just a tad more clear before you become a permanent part of my collection." David crossed his arms then titled his head. Dean pursed his lips, ready to jump him at any moment. Sam still had a tight grip on his brother's arm, not letting him go for nothing.

"Ah, where to begin? Well, it seems that you happened upon the wrong Wax Museum boys. This here gallery has a hidden agenda, needs something that you two can provide." His smile deepened, making Dean even more eager.

"20 years ago a young boy by the name of Mark Loftmore and five of his friends visited my lovely establishment. Four of his friends died here. You see, I need 18 souls in total to make my wonderful exhibits come to life. It happened then, but Mark, that little shit, got in the way. I guess the fact that I killed his grandfather made him a little vengeful."

Dean snickered, crossing his own arms. He had no remorse for this asshole, and now as the story was being told, he had even less. Sam had let him go, now not caring in the slightest if he took the man's head off. He just wished it would happen now rather than later. Just listening to him blather on was getting annoying.

"That night, Mark and his girlfriend decided to burn my museum down. They almost succeeded. Of course they almost killed me and my men as well. But as you see, we are still here, or at least, _they_ were."

Sam realized he had thrown Hans into the cobra display. _Oh shit!!! _Did that mean that everything was coming to life and why the hunter did not respond to Dean's logic?? Maybe Sam was over thinking things like always, but he just had to know.

"Wait, didn't you already get your 18? I mean Hans and Junior became part of the museum remember." Dean nodded hard, just remembering this himself. Maybe they had screwed up and helped this idiot out without realizing it. _Way to go Dean, once again you act before you think. _

David shook his head slipping from his high horse. He placed his hands behind his back then stepped in front of Dean. The look on his face was one they had never seen on anyones, not even his. It was utterly terrifying.

"No, sorry to disappoint. But the boys gave their lives years ago. Just like you are going to do, right now!" He yanked Dean off his feet, lifting him over his head. Sam acted fast. He found a fallen tree branch, picked it up and whacked David as hard as he could in the face. What Sam witnessed almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

David's face, or rather what there was of it, had peeled all the way to the right in a macabre Phantom's mask. It was not skin, yet rather manufactured wax, the kind used in David's own museum. Underneath was nothing but grey bone. His eye was a black marble, not a normal oculus. It flashed from Sam to Dean, then back again.

"Silly child." David's voice had changed. It was deeper and more evil.

"You can't kill," He tossed Dean to the grass.

"What will not die!"

David leapt at Sam, knocking him to the ground. They rolled on the grass, David's hands on his throat. Sam dug into his flesh and peeled off layers of wax. David growled then banged Sam's head on the ground furiously. Sam's eyes swam, the pain registering quickly. Dean jumped up, crashing into David, knocking him off his brother.

"You cowardly son of a bitch!" Dean kicked David in the stomach, then felt a punch to his jaw, throwing him backwards. David began to stand, but Dean was on him. Dean punched him hard, throwing him forward. Sam watched as they both disappeared in a flash of light. Sam shook his head, a slight headache beginning, then followed after them.

Dean and David had landed on the carpeted floor, Dean on bottom and David on top. Dean struggled to hold on to the curator, but his waxy flesh continued to peel and chip. As David made a move to strike at the other man, he kneed David in the stomach, lifting him over his head. David grunted as he struggled to keep control of the situation, but was suddenly on the losing end.

As Sam toppled from the exhibit, he saw David soar over Dean's head and land square into the Marie Antoinette display. A light flashed, followed by a sharp zapping sound. Moments later, as Sam helped his brother up they watched the scene change completely.

Standing next to Marie was a large guillotine and blood was splashed all over the front of it. Behind it was a headless body. Sam lightly tapped his brother and pointed at Marie. Dean looked and gulped. In her slender hands, was David Lincoln's decapitated head.

-----

Sam opened the front door for his brother and breathed in the night air. It had been almost noon when they had ventured into the museum, but by their watches it was nearly eight pm. Dean walked up to the Impala, keys in hand, but did not move to the driver's side. Sam stared at him, wondering if he was okay.

"Sam," He turned to his brother, a worried look on his face. Sam knew that whenever he looked like that, something was definitely wrong. Dean rarely showed emotions, especially to Sam. Dean eyed his fingers, almost trying to avoid the present conversation, then glanced back at his brother.

"I made a mistake tonight that almost cost us our lives, almost cost me your life, again! Damn it if I don't keep doing that. Sam..." Dean turned away, not saying another word. Sam moved slowly forward and placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean stirred, but still said nothing.

"Look. Quit beating yourself up about it. We are still here. We made it out in one piece okay." Dean nodded slightly. Then he turned.

"You know what?" Dean's hands took up residence on his hips. Sam merely shrugged. "I saved your life twice today. Twice. You owe me..." Sam stepped back, bemused.

"_I_ owe _you_? I made sure the mad hunter did not fill you full of lead, and I _owe_ you? That's it. Next time we go to Canada where it is nice and cold so you can freeze your ass off. And you will like it!" Sam yanked the keys from his brother's hand and stepped around to the driver's side. He opened his door, taking a seat. Dean's eyes widened.

"Woah, _next_ time. Bullshit next time. This is the last time we ever go on vacation. I am not even going to the corner store for milk." Dean opened his door, slipping into the bucket seat.

"You're a big jerk you know that?" Sam chuckled. He shut his door then started the car.

"Yeah, well, you're a little bitch." Dean retorted. He slammed his own door and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. A split second later he opened an eye, glaring at Sam.

"And dude if you so much as _scratch_ my car I am going to feed you to those vampires that _so_ wanted your juicy ass." Dean laid back, turning to the right. He was out like a light.

Sam laughed heartily then put the car in drive. 'People Are Strange' burst through the speakers of the stereo. Sam hurriedly changed the station, sighing. He could not wait to get back to normal society where at least the things that came after them had an expiration date.

* * *

A/N (part two): Not sure if anyone got the "Lost Boys" references here...there were a few in the movie, so I slipped in a couple myself...The biggest being the place setting...Santa Carla, Cali. Both films were set there...then I used the song 'People Are Strange' which played at the very beginning of 'Lost Boys'...just thought it a nice touch... 

If you saw Waxwork, you know David Lincoln died at the very end...he was shot, and landed in the vat of hot wax...well, I thought, what if he was able to get out?? What if he didn't quite die??? I like 'What if's' The world is full of them, might as well use them...

If you have any ideas for movie crossovers for the boys that you would like me to shove them into...please let me know...I will gladly give it a whirl!! (as long as I have at least heard of the film that is, hehe)


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